Living On
by Azaisya
Summary: After Lily's death, Severus Snape isn't quite sure what to do with himself. But as time wears on, he slowly heals. Oneshot.


**Author's note: I had to do this for the Create-A-Potion challenge but holy cow I got so stuck on this. I really hope it's okay. **

**Word count: 1,101**

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling and therefore do not own Harry Potter. **

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><p><strong>Pride<strong>.

He supposed it was just luck, that he'd been there, listening to the seer's prophecy. But he didn't believe in coincidence. Something in his life had brought him here. Who else had ever brought the Dark Lord such important information?

He hadn't intended for Aberforth, the innkeeper, to catch him. But that didn't matter. Because he had information that would make him the Dark Lord's most trusted ally.

**Horror**.

How could he have known that the Dark Lord would target _Lily_? He had never dreamed . . . never in his wildest nightmares. . . . Despite knowing the dangers, he pleaded with his master, begged him. But of course the Dark Lord would choose his own life over a Muggle-born's. Why would he ever think otherwise?

His moment of glory had faded, crumbled into ash and bones. He could only think of one thing to do. Lily wouldn't receive him, she wouldn't trust him, as much as it pained him to say it. But their paths had met once, and now they wound further away still.

**Fear**.

He knew it had been near suicidal, to seek out Albus Dumbledore, but what else could he do? Who else was powerful enough to protect Lily when the Dark Lord himself was after her?

He had been terrified, there, on that hill top, facing one of the most powerful wizards of the century. Terrified that he'd be killed, terrified that he'd succeed and the Dark Lord would find out, terrified that he'd fail and Lily would—

_No_. He mustn't think of that. Because something as wonderful, as purely good as Lily couldn't just be killed. And life wasn't fair, but surely it'd allow him that, one small blessing in a life of darkness?

**Grief**.

He was drowning, and there was nobody to save him, not anymore. Because Lily Potter was no more. She had been killed. His whole life had been spent loving her, watching her, despairingly, from a distance. But she'd been there, alive, laughing, with those sparkling green eyes he loved so much.

He didn't think he could take it anymore, the endless agony, the darkness within him surging upwards, the horrible emptiness within him. He could deal with physical pain. That would end. But this. . . . This felt eternal.

**Resignation**.

He would help keep the boy safe, because he was Lily's son. But not because he was Potter's. And he needed something in his life, something worth living for. If a promise to protect a boy he had never met was that something, then he'd do it. Because without something to live for, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to resist the temptation to follow Lily once again.

**Bitterness**.

The other Hogwarts teachers didn't trust him, despite the fact that he had Dumbledore's favor. And who could blame them? He had served the Dark Lord for years. And so he built walls, always strong, even higher and thicker, shielding his mind and his heart, which was still softly whimpering, deep down inside.

It was strange, teaching at Hogwarts, being back within castle's walls. He couldn't help sulking a little when he hadn't gotten the job he'd wanted, but he excelled at potions, too. But at least he was safe, with a bed and food, and not being rounded up like all the other Death Eaters.

**Surprise**.

Because he discovered that he actually liked teaching, and the students, and it took his mind off of Lily for long stretches at a time. He found himself growing attached to certain students, whether he liked it or not.

But then he would remember the terrible pain he had felt when Lily had died, how her simplest words had hurt more than the Cruciatus Curse, how her smile had lit up his world, but how her cold gaze later on had frozen his heart. How she'd been able to hurt him with scarcely a thought. He never wanted that again, never wanted to be so vulnerable. And so he retreated, grew even colder and distant. His students stopped coming to him freely, and that was alright. But he didn't want to get hurt, and he didn't want to hurt them.

**Shock**.

He hadn't known he was being so obvious. He hadn't expected Minerva McGonagall of all people to notice his pain, or to confront him about it. He had been utterly confounded when, instead of berating him, she offered him her hand.

And he took it, and he found an unlikely companionship. They were two very different people, but they were colleagues. And he found it worthwhile to befriend her, and, slowly and little by little, the other teachers. He could be cold towards them, too. But Minerva had shown him that he couldn't do this alone.

**Loyalty**.

He hadn't expected to grow loyal to his fellow teachers, to depend on them as much as they depended on him. He hadn't expected them to become a working unit, a team. How could he have? He was convinced that he was destined to always be an outcast. But here, despite the very obvious differences between them, he found some kind of connection. Something that tried to fill up that gaping hole Lily's death had left within him. It didn't fill it up all the way; he would always love her. But it helped. It most definitely helped.

**Realization**.

Lily's name no longer made him cringe away, or brought back a familiar wail of anguish. He still felt terribly sad when he thought of her, but just the other day he found himself smiling as he recalled one of their many adventures.

The simple fact that he no longer felt quite as sad stunned him. And for a second, he was afraid. Had he stopped loving her? But no; one conversation with Dumbledore was enough to ease his fears, just as they always were. He couldn't live his life grieving her; she would've wanted him to move on.

**Contentment**.

To his completely and utter surprise, he found himself content at Hogwarts. Found himself being genuinely happy most of the time. Found that he felt like he was at home. The journey had been long and arduous, but he was home. The idea was foreign, almost unknown. But he welcomed it.

And though he knew that the future would hold trials, he was content now, and that was enough.

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><p><strong>Review, please, and tell me what you think!<strong>


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